I am just over a month into my new position of Sous Chef at
my place of employment. There have been a number of challenges, and a number of
obstacles. Those may seem like synonyms, but they are different and each have
unique ways of being solved. This is the highest I’ve ever climbed in the ranks
of anything, and I think I am doing well for how far in I am, and how much time
I’ve actually been able to commit to my new responsibilities. For this post, I will focus on one challenge: me.
It’s been two weeks since my replacement started on the
line, and after a week of training, I have been able to spend a majority of my
time away from the line, developing new menu items, fabricating meats,
preparing ingredients, and learning how to manage people “these days.”
Kitchens have evolved incredibly since my first job 25 years
ago. I vividly recall being scolded in front of coworkers (I specifically remember
being chastised in presence of the attractive wait staff) for making simple mistakes
like putting a pickle on the wrong side of the plate or accidentally missing a
bright-blue bandage on a plate and sending it out. The latter is a true story,
and it made it past the window, past the eyes of the server, and all the way to
the customer who saw the bloody wrap and immediately left the premises after
telling the owner. I was probably deserving of the reprimand and more for that
one, but I’ve been yelled at for very minor occurrences which were all part of
the learning curve at my young age. As I progressed with my skills over the
years, I received fewer lectures, and as even more time passed, yelling became
sit-downs with owners and management where problems were addressed and solutions were created, all with my input.
These days, people still show anger, confusion, and frustration in
kitchens, but in my professional business, we find ways to work it out, or vent
behind the scenes. I have been at my current job for nearly two years, and I
have had to be called up to one office or another several times. I normally
start off the conversation by stating that I’ve been getting called to the office
for about 35 years, and usually my mother is present, and we all have a laugh
because I am quite funny. But then my supervisor points out some defect of
character that I haven’t addressed yet—or something I will probably get in
trouble for, for the rest of my life—and I address the problem and move on. This is
how we resolve minor issues in 2019. Nobody yells, nobody cries, everybody
keeps calm. We speak respectfully and concisely.
As far as me as a manager, I’m learning to communicate
professionally and—this is the tough one—without constant sarcasm. It was pointed out to
me recently that not everybody perceives my comments as funny and ironic, but
instead could be received as literal and haranguing. I don’t break character when I’m
trying to be funny, and sometimes I suppose it’s possible that my lack of a
smirk when addressing an actual problem with a joke, could actually be hurtful,
and could cause people to not like working with me.
It takes everything I have not to write sardonically in this
post, and be funny because it is in my nature, but I have to assume that people I work with may
read this, and I have to be selective with my battles and change my banter to
each situation or person, and maybe be more selective with whom I choose to share my exceptional
set of interpretations on daily life and foodservice.
I want to be funny, but not at the expense of others. I am
funny, but not to everybody. And if I want to keep this great—potentially career—job
I have, I can make some sacrifices, (Insert funny animal sacrifice joke), and
act in a manner according to my job description. I can make plenty of jokes
when I get home, because the woman and girls I live with adore me and my
hipster-dad funny-guy character. (Insert blank stare picture of Amanda.)
My life has changed over and over, but one thing has
remained consistent: my sense of humor as deflection. Maybe it’s time for me to
grow up.
(Insert long pause.)
